


Wish You Were Here

by gwyneth rhys (gwyneth)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Humor, M/M, Mostly Dialogue, Trapped, stuck in a car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-10-12
Updated: 1998-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-27 09:04:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyneth/pseuds/gwyneth%20rhys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When plans for a weekend go awry, Mulder and Skinner find themselves stuck with each other. Very short and very silly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish You Were Here

"Move it or lose it," Skinner growled.

"I'm just trying to see if the adapter might be under the seat. Geez." Mulder wore his best pout.

"Your hand was on my leg."

"It was not. I accidentally brushed against you. That's all."

"Rubbing the back of your hand suggestively up and down my calf does not constitute accidentally brushing."

"You're embellishing."

Skinner sighed deeply. "Wish you were here." His voice sounded sneering, but his face was as impassive as ever. "My ass."

"What?"

" 'Wish you were here.' That's what you were saying to Scully, using up the last of your goddamn phone battery. Aside from the fact that you've put us in this predicament in the first place, you managed to waste what little battery time you had, on the only phone we had, by chatting with Scully. On the false pretense that you wished she was here on this little jaunt."

"I bug her all the time about going on her vacations with her. I figured, you know, this would put her off the scent, and she wouldn't think it odd that I'd run off on the spur of the moment if I pretended to want her along."

"Brilliant." Skinner rubbed the bridge of his nose. "How do you come up with such arcane and convoluted theories?"

"Well, it's too bad she's not here, isn't it? She might be able to get us out of this. Look, you were just as eager to go off on this little adventure. I didn't have to drag you. You couldn't keep your hands off me, and as soon as I told you about this--"

"When did you get friends with houses on the shore, anyway? I didn't think you *had* friends."

"I don't usually. This is an old family friend I recently became reacquainted with. I went to school with him."

"And maybe something else?"

"Jealous much?"

"I'm not jealous. It's just that I want to know what I might have gotten myself into were it not for hurricane warnings and road closures. What kind of guy you used to go to school with has a house at the shore?"

Mulder barked out a laugh. "I know what's under those words. You want to know if I was involved with him."

"Well, were you?"

"I'm not talking. A guy has to keep some mystique about himself. If he wants to remain attractive."

Skinner snorted.

"I had been involved with him once. That's all I'm saying." Mulder fidgeted when he spoke.

"Did he know you were going to run off to his house and have crazed passionate animal sex with someone while he was away?"

"He never goes there any more. He lives out of the country. I'm the only one with a key since, oh, last year or so."

"So this is where you take your conquests."

Mulder laughed bitterly. "Oh geez, Walt. Why not try to take all the responsibility off your shoulders and put it on mine. This isn't all my fault, you know. You were all over me. And man, when you finally erupt, you're just a little volcano." He poked Skinner's arm.

Skinner rubbed the bridge of his nose again. "You know, Mulder, you shouldn't grope me in my office. It's unseemly and it will get us in trouble."

"Hey! I had no idea you were going to respond. All this time you've been keeping me at a distance, and I thought, you know, that you were just a tease."

"Mulder, do I look like the kind of guy who'd tease?"

"Yeah, you do. Big butch thing like you, I bet you do it to all the boys."

"Stop that." He made a low noise in his throat, almost a growl. "Someday I'm going kill you. It's my fate."

"Yeah. Well, how would that make *you* any different? That seems to be the general way of thinking about me. People like your smoking buddy, whatever he's called. It seems like everyone connected with him thinks that killing me is the only way to get me under control. What shall we do with Mulder? Oh, I know, let's try to kill him."

Skinner sighed. "Sooner or later, Mulder, we all reach that conclusion."

"Ha ha."

"You know, when we get back, I'm going to issue an edict that all cars get equipped with phone battery adapters and road flares and a tool kit. I can't believe a car this new would break down like this and we're helpless to get it running. Not even a pair of pliers, and that's all I would need."

"If we hadn't had to drive all over hell and high water trying to find an open road back, that would have helped. It's not every day all the roads are closed, you know. It's a unique situation."

"And maps. Maps. Those can be very helpful, especially," he said pointedly, glaring at Mulder in the darkness, "when you don't know how to get to your destination."

"I've only been there once before. Geez. And how was I to know there was a hurricane warning and the roads would be blocked off? I'm not a psychic, you know."

"If we'd been thinking with our brains instead of our pants, we would have probably found that out, don't you think, Agent Mulder?"

"Yeah, well, that's water under the bridge."

"Ha, ha." Skinner closed his eyes. "I can't believe I'm going to die such an ignominious death. Drowned, or hit by a falling tree, or the car flipped over by the wind. Maybe if I'm really lucky we'll get picked up and carried around in the eye of the hurricane and deposited somewhere near Virginia."

"Is there an eye in a hurricane? I thought that was a tornado."

"Of course there's an eye in a hurricane. In any stormy weather there's an eye. Eye of the storm, right?"

"I don't think so. I think it's only a tornado."

"Bullshit."

"Well, how do hurricanes work? I mean, what's the difference between a hurricane and a cyclone -- isn't it just the region? And then there's a 'tropical depression'. So, what's up with that?"

"What do I look like? Willard Scott?"

Mulder eyeballed him. "Well, with a rug and an extra eighty pounds, yeah, you could."

Skinner hit him in the arm, hard, with a flat palm, shoving Mulder against the door. "You're going to pay for that."

"I already am," Mulder said bitterly, rubbing his arm. "It's your own fault. I didn't put a gun to your head."

"No, but you're the one who's been coming on to me for so long."

"Tempting little morsel that I am."

Skinner looked at him sideways. "Don't pretend to be modest."

"I'm not pretending. I just refuse to take the blame, that's all. I'm not that attractive that I could overcome your big butch reticence and reluctance if you weren't already that way inclined."

"That way inclined? Geez, Mulder, where do you come up with these things?"

"Because I *am* that way inclined, sometimes."

Skinner was silent for a time.

"And whether you want to admit it or not, this means you are too," Mulder said, sweeping his hand around the car's interior.

Skinner was resolutely silent. The windows had fogged thickly and he could no longer see outside. But the winds had picked up, and the car seemed to shimmy every so often.

Finally Skinner said, "You said sometimes. So you just, what, go with whichever inclination you have at the time?"

Mulder made a face. "Well, I can't say that my sex life has been much to talk about in the past few years. Some people would say I don't have one. I've been laid three times since I took over the X-Files. All of them were women, and all of them had emotional problems. Which is pretty typical. I seem to be attracted to people with problems. Either I desire more problems, somewhere in my subconscious, which is a sad commentary on me as a human being, or I am attracted to people with broken wings, and I want to fix them. And I'm not sure that's any better, frankly."

"Are you more attracted to women than men?"

"No, I don't think so," Mulder answered. "I like how soft and curvy women are. But guys, well, they have decidedly pleasant physical aspects, as well."

"And maybe less emotional problems?"

Mulder laughed. "No, I don't think that's it. I keep trying to meet people. Really, I do. Being a loser isn't my true goal in life. But I can't seem to sustain anything, and I'm not sure if it's because of my obsession with the X-Files or because I'm a failure as a human being. I want to have something real. Only, I keep finding myself attracted to those people who need professional help, which is astonishingly poor form for someone like me -- because so many people think *I* need help -- instead of the strong people I want to be attracted to. Finding you was a revelation. Someone I was definitely attracted to, someone I wanted, but who didn't have all that excess baggage. So I started flirting with you, but you never seemed interested. Until recently."

"Until your inclinations took over," Skinner said wryly.

"And yours did, too. Don't forget. Otherwise why would we be here in this garden spot of Maryland? On such a lovely day."

"You are just plain bad for my health, physical and mental."

Mulder didn't say anything at first. "Well. That much is true."

"What?"

"It's true. I'm not good for your health. Think about what's happened to you because you've done things, stood up for me."

"That sack cloth and ashes is so becoming on you." Skinner sighed dramatically. "Give me a break. I'm not some altruist, you know. I just happen to believe you're a good enough agent that I don't want people harming you, or Agent Scully. I'm practical. Don't ascribe higher motives to me than I have."

"See, there you go again. Mr. Reluctance. Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Deflect."

"I'm not deflecting." Skinner waved his arms around, helplessly. "I'm trapped in a dead car with a lunatic who has some mysterious power over me that makes me run off on a dirty weekend and now I'm stranded in the middle of a hurricane warning and... and you're trying to compliment me."

Mulder burst out laughing. He held his sides as he laughed, with huge hiccuping gasps, leaning against the foggy car window. "Oh, God forbid you should be complimented on your sterling personality. God forbid someone should think you're wonderful," he gasped out.

Skinner's jaw moved back and forth. "I'm not comfortable with that, is all."

"I guess not. Hey Walt... Here's a big secret for you. You're handsome and smart and funny and wonderful and good. You're the kind of man someone could fall for. I bet that hurts, huh?"

Skinner winced. "Can we please change the subject?"

"No. I want you to say thank you, Mulder."

"No."

Mulder placed his hand on Skinner's knee. "Say thank you Mulder or I'll put the moves on you."

"And I'll beat you to a pulp. This is still all your fault."

Mulder's hand snaked up Skinner's thigh, coming to rest just below his crotch. "Thank you, Mulder. Say it!"

"Thank you, Mulder," Skinner snarled, yanking Mulder's hand away and hurling his arm away with great force. Mulder held his hand up in mid-air, laughing.

Mulder moved in and grabbed Skinner's face, trying to kiss him. Skinner hurled himself backwards and fought Mulder off with flailing hands. "Stop that! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Kissing you!" Mulder hollered back, laughing. "Did you think you weren't going to kiss me at some point? I mean, what? Did you think we were going to get all the way to the beach house and then... go clam digging or something?" His grin was huge.

"No. I just... I don't have the same feelings now."

Mulder "hmphd" and settled back in his seat. He began beating a staccato rhythm on the door arm rest with his right hand.

"Now I want you to tell me what you think of me," Mulder said in a wheedling but merry tone.

"I still have my gun."

"Threats and promises. Tell me. What will it hurt?"

"Me. It'll hurt *me*."

"You're so repressed, you know?" Mulder considered for a moment. "I bet you don't want to tell me because you think so badly of me."

"Why do you think I think so badly about you?"

"Because you never tell me. Because I bet you'd rather have chopsticks rammed through your ears than tell someone what you think of them, even when it's good."

"I'm just not that kind of guy."

"No, you're not, are you? Do you ever say anything sweet to anyone? Is that why you and Sharon didn't have kids, because you might have had to be sweet and kind to them? Is that why you and Sharon drifted apart?"

Skinner was visibly angry. "How dare you! You don't know anything about my life and you have no right to make assumptions about anything." His fist clenched and unclenched. Rain had finally started falling and it pattered loudly on the car, punctuating the silence. "You are one nosy son-of-a-bitch, you know that? Where do you get off saying things like that about me, and especially about Sharon?"

"Sorry," Mulder said peevishly. "I just figured the only way to get you to open up is to provoke you. It's the only way it's worked in the past."

"I hate that you're a psychologist, you know?"

"Yeah, and you're a field day in the study of denial and repression." Mulder fished around in his pockets. He didn't find what he was looking for, so he leaned over the seat and fished around in his raincoat, which he'd tossed in the back seat when they took off from Washington. "So. We're trapped here. The moment is long since lost. Tell me what made you and Sharon drift apart. And why didn't you have kids?" Mulder opened the tin, and popped a mint in his mouth. "Our only food. You want one?" He handed one to Skinner.

A long, dark sigh escaped Skinner's mouth. He rubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead. "It's not a dramatic story. Sharon couldn't have kids, and I never really wanted them, so it wasn't an issue for us when we married. Nothing unusual -- lots of people don't have kids. And as for the marriage, well, we just drifted apart. The way people do. It wasn't like I knew the secrets about a government conspiracy and had one of my kids abducted, earning the undying enmity of my wife or something."

"Touché."

"You deserved it. It's none of your business."

"I just wondered if... if it might be because you were... you know, that way inclined." Mulder laughed, but it sounded weak, as if it were just for show.

"No. Any inclination was over long before I got married."

"So this wasn't just me? There was an inclination a while ago? Maybe even a couple of inclinations?"

"A very long while ago."

"Tell me."

Skinner flipped the seat back and slid up, so his head was nearly in the seat behind. It had become colder in the car as the wind increased, but it still felt muggy and close.

"Not much to tell. I knew an English guy back in L.A., when I was a cherry agent. Things happened. It was short, and then I got married."

"So you'd say you're bisexual."

"I wouldn't say I'm anything, Mulder. I don't think about stuff like that. I don't want to think about it. And until you came along, I didn't have to think about it."

"But you were overcome by my physical charms."

"Among other things."

This time Mulder flipped his seat back until he was level with Skinner, but he didn't turn to look at him.

"Now this is getting interesting. Oh come on. We're probably going to die here. What will it hurt if you tell me what attracts you to me? I have just enough of a self-esteem problem that I'd really like to know."

"Why do you think I'd risk everything to run off with you just because you said your friend had a house at the shore and we were hormone-addled? Because I was suddenly overcome with the desire to screw a man, after all these years? Because I can't keep my hands off my male staff? Give me a break. You know perfectly well that you're attractive, to anyone. It's a lot more than just physical stuff."

"Well, then, what is it?"

"I don't *know,* Mulder. Geez. It's... I don't know. I guess... your sense of humor." He waved his hands idly in the air, but it was so dark Mulder could barely see them. "They're intangible things, Mulder."

"Okay."

"Okay? That's it? You're not going to keep pestering me until I lay my soul out to you?"

"I just wanted you to try," Mulder said facetiously.

"I should pound you."

"So who was this guy in L.A.?"

"What guy? Oh." Skinner fidgeted. "Him."

"You're so coy!"

All he received in reply was something between a growl and a grumble.

Mulder snickered.

"Do you want to know or not?" Skinner snapped.

"Yes. Yes, I do. How did you meet him?"

"Like I said, I was a cherry agent. He wasn't much more experienced than I was, he worked for the Home Office, ostensibly. A subdivision of a subsection of a subsomething or other. He was a spook. And my job was to help him on something. One thing led to another. And then he went home and then I met Sharon."

Skinner was so matter-of-fact about it that Mulder sat waiting for the other shoe to drop. "What was his name?"

"Julian. And I'm *not* telling you his last name."

"Julian? You were involved with an English guy named Julian? What, did you have tea and crumpets for afters? Julian! Could you get any more fey?"

Skinner didn't open his eyes but his face twisted in a scowl. "He could have kicked your ass six ways 'til Sunday. Fey didn't enter into it. And don't make a federal case out of it."

"Ooo, I love that dry wit!"

"The worst thing about when they finally find me here in this car is that I'm going to have to explain why I'm trapped in it with a dead body."

"Okay, okay. So anyway," Mulder said, making himself as comfortable as he could considering he was lying sideways on a car seat, "this was the only experience you had. And then you met Sharon. Were you trying to cover for yourself by marrying her?"

"No, you shithead." Skinner's words ground out between clenched teeth. "Did it ever fucking occur to you that I loved her?"

"I just thought... sorry. Again."

But Skinner seemed almost dreamy, thinking about it. The wind was starting to really howl now, and the car rocked steadily. "There was a kind of glow about her. Like a light inside her. I would watch her walk sometimes, or do little things like wash dishes, do laundry. And she always seemed to have that glow. I was enchanted with her, I always was. And that dark hair and those light eyes. She was lovely." The corners of his mouth twisted, but it was difficult to tell whether it was a grimace or a smile. Then Skinner gave a short, bitter laugh. "I hate that she stopped loving me."

Mulder said quietly, "Because you never stopped loving her."

"No, I didn't. But I also never stopped trying to hide it from her. After a while you start to understand that you're not giving them what they want, even though you think you're giving them everything."

"And you never looked back? You never thought about another guy? Ever?"

"Nope." Skinner shifted again, pulling his arms across his chest, in the damp cold of the car.

"Until you met me."

"Until I met you."

Mulder paused for some time. "Why me?"

"There are things about you that remind me of him, in some ways. I guess there must be qualities that I look for that I'm not sure I'm looking for."

"I think I know what you mean. Sometimes I do that with people, friends especially. If I bothered to think about it, I might come up with something. It's funny, even though I knew Scully was sent to spy on me, she had those qualities, whatever they were, and I knew I would care for her the instant I met her."

They were silent again for a while. Skinner tapped the fingers of his right hand against the biceps of his left arm.

Eventually Skinner said, "And now you blame yourself for her cancer, just like you blame yourself for the things that have happened to me. And you blame yourself for her daughter, and the girl's death."

"Hey, when did this become about me?"

Skinner opened one eye and looked balefully at Mulder. "Isn't everything about you?"

"Touché again." He thought for a while. "I guess it's just that... I think the world of her. And you. There aren't many people in my life to feel that way about. And I wonder, if I can care for both of you, and in spite of all I've done to the two of you, you guys can care for me, why I can't I do it right more often? Are you that patient, that superior as human beings, that you can care for someone like me?"

Skinner shook his head. "Other people have cared for you, too, Mulder. I've seen your case reports. I've seen how close you grew to some of the people you've helped. You're an unusual agent in that respect. You have become more emotionally involved with your cases than anyone else I know, and the impact of that on others has been huge."

Mulder snorted. "Like who? Everyone dies."

"Oh come on."

"No, it's true." He was quiet for so long that it seemed to amplify the howling wind outside. Then he finally spoke, very slowly. "The one person I can't forget -- you probably wouldn't have read the file -- was awoman named Lucy Householder. Scully thought I cared for her because I was displacing my feelings about Samantha. I wasn't, but you know, I was never able to explain how I felt. I just... I wanted for once, just for something in Lucy's life to be good, to have meaning. I wanted her to let someone care for her. I wanted to be that someone. Her friend. I still don't know. But I can't forget it. And she died."

"I remember that file. I admired you for doing what you did, in the face of everyone's doubts."

Mulder sighed. "I guess... I guess I want to make a difference. Everyone thinks I want to run around chasing conspiracies and monsters, but the sad truth is, I just want to help people. I only got into this because I thought I could make a difference. I've used the X-Files to further my own personal quest, yes, but in the long run, what I really care about is making things right for other people." He paused. "I think humans are the worst monsters of all. If I can prevent one more woman from being murdered by someone like Donnie Pfaster, then everything would be worth it. Does that sound hopelessly naive?"

"Not at all," Skinner said, shaking his head. "I've always known it. That's what you do best." He let out a huge breath while he scratched at the fringe of hair on his head. "Do you remember a few years ago, sitting in my office and snapping at me about that horrible mutant thing, that flukeworm guy? What really got you going wasn't that we had evidence of something terrible gone awry with genetics. What pissed you off, and what you were barking at me about, was that two people got killed. Helping people, saving them, is what you do. Your own quest drives you, but it's secondary. It's important, I don't discount that. But it's not what makes you who you are, in the end. You'd give your life for Scully, given the opportunity, wouldn't you?"

"Yes. But now that she hates me, I won't have that chance."

"She doesn't hate you."

"Yes, she does, right now. And I don't blame her. Because like I have with you, I've caused most of the misery in her life. And sometimes I have the chance, that possibility, to reconnect with her, but we only end up farther apart."

"What do you mean?"

Mulder crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh, I haven't been very supportive of her in her religious beliefs. I sneer at her, in fact. I don't know why I do that. I expect her to throw away her own beliefs and follow me around in mine, to believe in what I believe in, but I won't do it for her. So sometimes, I wonder. What's wrong with me? Am I that selfish? Is that why I have no friends, because I'm that selfish?"

"I don't know, Mulder. I'm not your psychiatrist." Skinner sighed and rolled over on his side, arms drawn close around him. Finally he looked at Mulder. "And anyway. You're just arguing about religion in an interfaith marriage. Has to happen at some point."

"Religion."

"The X-Files is a religion for you, Mulder. Alien abductions, mutants, conspiracies -- they're all your religion. You and Scully are like any couple from time immemorial when faced with different religions."

"We're not a couple!"

"Sure you are. You might as well be married."

Mulder sputtered. "No way!"

"What's so bad about that? *I* wouldn't mind being married to Scully. Why the fuss?"

"Because we're partners. We're friends. And the X-Files isn't a religion. Not like Scully's faith is a religion. I don't think that's a fair comparison."

"The truth hurts, is that it?"

Mulder thought for a while. "Okay, maybe you're right. Maybe it is an interfaith marriage."

"See? I'm smarter than I look."

"You look plenty smart to me. And sexy. You know, what if I'd been trapped with you before and we'd talked like this? I wonder how many problems I could have seen through, how much inner peace I'd have achieved. You're like some kind of shaman or spiritual guide."

Skinner glared at him. "Now who's deflecting? Stop being such a smartass."

The wind was now howling around the car and rain sheeted off the hood. They could hear the trees whipping violently around them. Mulder started singing quietly in a high, awkward voice, fussing around in his pockets, reaching for his mints. "We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl--"

"Stop that."

"Sorry. Now the song's stuck in my head. I didn't know I was doing that."

"If you didn't know, how did you know what I was referring to?"

"You are so contentious!"

"No singing in the car," Skinner said sternly. "No singing anywhere near me."

"Sourpuss."

"Why do you bother Scully on her vacations?"

The non-sequitur seemed to throw Mulder. Finally he said, "Well, I guess I'm lonely without her."

Skinner's eyes were closed but he said, "You don't have to be lonely, you know. You just have to let people in. Take time for them. Instead of irritating them."

"Have you ever heard about glass houses?"

"Mulder. That was me showing emotion. Don't take it for granted because it won't likely happen again." He opened his eyes.

Mulder's mouth opened and closed a few times. "Oh. Are you saying, then, that there might be more in my future than a grope in your office?"

"No more office groping. No more running off on hasty passionate road trips to nowhere. Assuming we survive this night, no more anything except being honest, okay? If I'd known half the things about you that you haven't really said tonight, maybe this wouldn't have taken so long."

Mulder hesitated. "Wow. Wow. I didn't know you had something like that in you. Wouldn't you be risking a lot if we saw each other?"

"I'm not talking about holding hands in Dupont Circle, Mulder. And besides. Life is full of risk."

"Said the man trapped in a car while a hurricane rages off shore."

"I think it's *on* shore now, Mulder."

Suddenly Mulder threw himself over the console, right on top of Skinner. Both of them let out large "oomphs" and Skinner tried to push Mulder off. Mulder's leg was tangled by the console and he was scarcely over the seat, but he pushed as much of his body weight onto Skinner as he could. He began furiously kissing Skinner, who acquiesced and joined in with startling speed.

Mulder pulled away, and a torrent of words poured out of him. "I don't care that we're going to die here, I really don't. I mean, just the fact that you were going with me, just the fact that we were finally doing something about it. All that time, you pushed me away and I thought you didn't feel the same way, but I wondered, and I kept wondering, and then you finally picked up my signals. And you know, I always wished, I always wanted, that you would want to be with me. And here you are, and yeah, maybe we'll die, but you're here, and I don't have to wish you were here, because you are. Because we *are* together for once. So the rest of it doesn't matter."

"Mulder, shut up," Skinner said, almost laughing. "Slow down."

But Mulder just dove down and kissed Skinner again, who responded by digging his fingers through Mulder's hair. They shifted repeatedly, Skinner inching backwards over the seat.

"Jesus!" Skinner exclaimed as his head smashed into the back seat. "Whoever said these things were full-sized sedans? This is ridiculous. I'm going to break my neck."

Mulder snaked a hand down Skinner's trousers. "But we'll die happy. I always knew you'd be hung like a horse."

"You don't have anything to be shy about, either. Oh geez. Don't... oh. No, keep doing that."

"And you keep doing *that,*" Mulder said lustfully. "Oh yeah, that's good."

Skinner sucked in a huge breath. "Where did you learn that?"

"The same place you learned... yes, that."

"Move over this way," Skinner said, trying to move Mulder's pants down his hips. "Jesus fucking Christ," he gasped.

"This is absurd," Mulder muttered against Skinner's neck. "But keep doing that anyway. Ohhhh yessss."

"Just... no, just... oh. Oh."

Mulder rolled over, smacking his back hard against the console and edge of the seat. Skinner flipped over, trying to crawl on top of him.

He ground his hips against Mulder's, and was gasping and panting when he looked up and noticed the sky was turning funny colors outside the foggy windows of the car. Mulder's hand was moving up and down his cock, over and over, and he had his mouth fastened on Skinner's right nipple. Skinner finally realized that the colors were the flashing red and blue of a Visibar.

Just as Mulder brought his mouth to Skinner's and thrust his tongue inside, they heard the knock on the window, and a voice called out, "Anyone in there?"

The driver's side door flew open.


End file.
